


Knife Skills

by SensationalSunburst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cor is an enabler, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gladio just wants everyone to relax, Ignis has good bros, Ignis just wanted to make a nice dinner, Nyx and Gladio are bros, Playing a bit with canon, Prompto just wants to help, Worried Noctis, depictions of violence, is mad Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: The bullets slammed into the display shelf, instantly pulverizing the fake cheese flavored snacks that had been stacked there, but all Ignis could see were the stray strands of Noctis’ hair, floating in air, stark against the bright orange cloud.  He felt his veins ignite with a fury so potent that he was unsure if his body was physically capable of containing it.What a tedious day.ORSword and Shield. Ignis always knew he may one day be forced to kill in defense of the Crown, but he hadn't expected that day to come on what should have been a quiet Tuesday afternoon, nor did he expect to react so poorly to it.OR ORIgnis struggles to cope with taking a life in defense of the Crown. Lucky for him, his brothers have his back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of canon complaint?  
> Here we play with ages an the status of certain relationships.

The bullets slammed into the display shelf, instantly pulverizing the fake cheese flavored snacks that had been stacked there, but all Ignis could see were the stray strands of Noctis’ hair, floating in air, stark against the bright orange cloud. Faintly, he could hear shouting, screaming, but it was dull under the thunderclaps of his heartbeat in his ears. He glanced behind him, took in the image of Noctis, stunned and shouting from the shelter of Gladio’s arms, the shaking of his hands as he strained against Gladio’s hold on his chest, keeping him down, thwarting  his attempts to reach him and turned his eyes back to the assassin crouching behind the counter, fumbling through his attempts to reload his rifle. Ignis felt his veins ignite with a fury so potent that he was unsure if his body was physically capable of containing it.

What a _tedious_ day.

 ______

 

It had, for all intents and purposes, started off fine. The Prince had been in an exceptionally good mood that morning, only taking a mere ten minutes to rouse from bed and another ten to get properly dressed. He’d even eaten breakfast at the table without complaint. His new friend, or more accurately, his first true friend, Prompto, seemed already to be having a positive impact. In fact, the pair were apparently slated to stay after school to observe the track team’s practice, the first step one had to take if they wished to join the team. This, Ignis suspected, was purely for Prompto’s benefit, as to say that Noctis wasn’t much of a runner would have been a drastic understatement.

Once, Gladio had challenged him to a longer jaunt instead of their usual warm up in lieu of the regular training T.he temptation of which had proven too strong for Noctis, but the strain resulted in the prince camping out in his rooms, curled in such pain on his couch that even his prescription muscle relaxers could do little to halt the spasming of his back and leg.

Ignis had arrived at the highschool at precisely 5:30PM, parked near the football stadium and balked as he discovered a small grouping of paparazzi peeping between the fence posts, obviously itching to get a photograph of the freshmen Prince at play. Not only was this blatant lack of respect for privacy rude, but, if discovered, would like put Noctis off being in the public eye for longer than needed to get to school and back for the foreseeable future. And considering that would likely jeopardize his friendship with Prompto, Ignis found it to slide from rude to unacceptable.

He took great pleasure in quietly confiscating their cameras, citing a rather obscure, but relevant law enacted after the Rouge Queen’s hermit-like reign about harassing the royal family on private property, and of course, putting the fear of the Six in them with threats of informing the Crownsguard of their trespasses.  

Prompto, Ignis had discovered as he’d glanced up to ensure that his quiet verbal evisceration of the Insomnian media had gone unnoticed, seemingly possessed exceptional vision and had witnessed much, if not all, of the display.

He was seated facing the fences, Noctis across from him with his back turned, but not once did he seem to mention Ignis’s presence until after the reporters had slunk away with their tails between their legs. His discretion prompted Ignis to suggest that he join them all for dinner.

Judging by the look on Prompto’s face, pleased and a little shocked, Ignis guess that this was not an offer that he had heard very often. Ignis made a note to invite the boy to dinner regularly, especially considering the look at had crossed _Noctis’s_ face after Prompto had gleefully accepted.

And so, the plan was set. First to pick up Gladio, then to the corner store across from Noctis’s apartment to gather ‘late night gaming snacks.’ Prompto was set to meet them after, as he had things to drop off at home.

Which is how Ignis, Gladio and Noctis ended up perusing the selection of highly processed carbs at the Quick & Easy. They’d only been inside for a moment when movement caught Ignis’s eye. A white van, unmarked, cruising slowly past the store. Something about the van didn’t sit well, and judging by how the store’s clerk slowly rose to attention, putting down the magazine he’d been reading, he wasn’t the only one getting a strange tingle down his spine. Next to him, his back to the windows, Noctis was comparing snacks, muttering about how Prompto seemed to be on some sort of a diet, so maybe he should get the ‘lite’ versions instead?

The van stopped.

The cashier stood, glancing down the aisle at them, expression twisted into something between annoyed and concerned.

“Glad-” Ignis began, one hand reaching out blindly to grab the shield’s attention, but everything promptly exploded into the sound of shattering glass and gunfire. The van had violently reversed into the parking lot, the back doors flying open and a hail of gunfire sent the cashier crashing to the floor behind the counter. A man dressed all in black flew from the back of the van, rushed through the shot out door and began firing the second his boots hit the earth. Ignis snatched Noctis on instinct and spun to hurl him to the ground behind him as bullets riddled the display he’d just been looking at. He followed Noctis down, cushioning his head before it could bounce against the linoleum and muffling the startled cry that tore itself from Noct's lips. The gunfire that had followed them down the aisle ceased, and Ignis was immediately on his feet. Gladio had already grabbed Noctis, who was clawing against the iron bar of his arm across his chest to grab at Ignis.

“Ignis, stay down!” Gladio snarled.

“Iggy! Ignis!” Noctis pleaded, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Come back!”

“Ignis, _dammit_!” Gladio shifted as if to get up and Ignis turned on him with a snarl.

“Sword,” He snapped, pointing a blessedly steady finger roughly at himself then Gladio, “Shield. Do you duty and get him out of here.”  Ignis turned his back as Noctis’s shouting went up in pitch. He felt the telltale tug of magic in chest as Gladio pulled a shield from the armiger and took a single, calming breath.

Unlike Gladio, who would reach into that strange, supernatural space between worlds as easy as breathing, Ignis hadn’t been able to pull weapons from the armiger outside of training. For him, it took minutes of strenuous, sometimes painful, meditation before he could pull a blade from the armory. He could hold it in his palm just long enough to recognize the intricate patterns etched into the handles before the connection was lost; the snapback of magic enough to knock his balance loose and sending him stumbling to the mats.

But as he drew himself up in the bullet ridden remains of the store, fueled by magma scorching its way through his veins, he felt his rage solidify against his palms. The dagger sailed from his hand and thunked solidly into the shoulder of the would-be-assassin, it was off target, but the second struck true, cutting off the scream as the blade lodged itself in his heart.

“Calsus!”

Ignis turned as the driver of the van all but fell from the cab. He fumbled with a handgun, his gaze snapped from Ignis to the body at his feet and the growing pool of blood and lifted the weapon, roaring.

The daggers reappeared in his hands and were shooting through the air less than a heartbeat later. One to the throat, the other to the stomach. The man crumpled to the pavement immediately, his hands twitching feebly towards the hemorrhaging wound in his windpipe and Ignis felt the daggers once again reappear in his white knuckled grip. He ripped his eyes away from the gore and back towards where he had dropped the first attacker. There were bloody bootprints leading towards him and Ignis felt a fine tremble start up in his legs. Were there more? Had Noctis and Gladio made it out? Had they been ambushed?   _Gods please no._

“- _intia_!”

Ignis spun on his heel, fast enough to nearly topple over, the blade in his right hand primed for launch.

“Stand down!”

He froze, recognizing Cor Leonis’s voice over the thunder in his ears. The red haze clouding his vision receded and he immediately dropped the daggers, horrified. They broke into the luminescent crystal lights of the armiger before they hit the pavement. But there was blood on his hands now, he could see it, and he didn't know when that had happened. It was already cooling, dropping from his index finger and settling under his nails. 

“Look at me, son.” Cor’s voice was suddenly close and as he dragged his eyes up and away from the bloody footprints, _his_ bloody footprints, and found that the Marshall had moved close enough to touch. Cor seemed to be studying him, his expression as unreadable as always, except for the way his frown seemed more pronounced than usual.

“Are you unharmed?”

“Yes, sir.” Ignis said.

“How old are you, Ignis?” Cor asked.

“Seventeen, sir.” Ignis said. Cor hummed thoughtfully and moved to step around him, pausing as he passed to place a heavy hand on Ignis’s subtly shaking shoulder. He was struggling in earnest now to remain collected, calm. All the superlatives the were required for the adviser to the future king. It would be unbecoming, he thought, if were to unravel over such an event, especially in front of Cor the Immortal.

“You did well, the first time is always the hardest. Noctis is unharmed. Ulric here is going to take you to the Citadel, where you are to remain until I collect you tomorrow to get your statement.” Cor said.

“Sir, I-”

“In the meantime, I’d suggest checking on His Highness. He was... distraught.” Cor continued, talking cleanly over Ignis’s attempts to protest the blatant absence of protocol.

“Ulric, if you would.” Cor removed his hand, a dismissal, and the glaive Ignis hadn’t noticed swept him into a waiting car with a light hand on his elbow.

He didn’t remember much of the ride, or Ulric’s short lived attempts at conversation. All he could see were those men falling to the floor, falling _dead_ to the floor; Noctis’s hair floating through the air where he’d been so, so unacceptably close to death. The weight of his daggers, _real blades,_ slicing through flesh like butter.

When he blinked the image of blood from his eyes, he was standing in front of Noct’s room, Ulric a steady presence over his shoulder as he reached around to knock at the door. His other hand was securely gripping Ignis’s elbow; steadying him or holding him up, Ignis’s couldn’t really tell. But before he could turn to thank him and actually look at his face, the front door was ripped open and Ignis suddenly had his arms full of a shaking, furious prince. With his charge shouting insults into his chest, but safe in his arms, Ignis knees, which had been threatening revolt against any further labor, turned to steel and his arms came to wrap themselves around Noctis.

“It’s alright.” He soothed, more to himself than Noctis.

“Thanks Nyx, I got em’ from here.” Gladio said quietly.

“I’ll be around if you need me.” The glaive, Nyx, replied.

“Inside. Now.” Gladio said, but his voice was soft as he attempted to pry Noctis from Ignis long enough from them both to get inside the suite. It only partially worked. Noctis simply shifted himself to Ignis’s side, both hands still wrapped securely about his waist, clenched tightly in his shirt, as if he were afraid he was going to bolt once released.

“I can’t believe you, I fucking can’t believe you made me leave you, you absolute asshole, we could have fucking helped, Ignis, they could have _killed_ you.” Noctis continued as he dragged him to the couch and threw them both on it. Ignis shared a look with Gladio, but instead of a similar vein of anger, Gladio simply shrugged.

“It is my duty to protect you.” Ignis said simply as Noctis wiggled his way under his arm to curl against his chest as he had when they were children.

“Well, fuc-”

“Cor has the situation under control now.” Ignis interrupted, gathering himself to speak clearly and evenly, “Tomorrow we shall be summoned to give statements. You will remain here in the meantime. Prompto will inform you of any missed assignments you may have at school.” It was easier to slip back into the skin of the Adviser, easier to swallow the nausea that brought bile to the back of his throat with every breath. Ignis the Adviser was simply better equipt to deal with this than Just Ignis.

“Shall I instruct Prompto to return home, or would you appreciate his company?” Ignis continued, pulling out his phone with some amount of difficulty. Noct was a barnacle against him, hair tickling his chin as he all but growled into his collarbone. Ignis frowned slightly at how his fingers shook over the home button once he’d freed his phone from his pocket and pressed the text command with more force than was was likely necessary.

“He’s already on his way.” Gladio said, plucking the phone from Ignis’s fingers. He hadn’t even seen Gladio approach. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips at the look on Gladio’s face.

“Iggy, just. Just stop. Stop for a second.” Gladio’s expression was too soft, too full of pity and something unidentifiable and Ignis could feel himself curling inward, hugging Noctis closer to him with a hand on his back and the other in his hair as if he could use him as a shield.

“I need to make dinner.” Ignis said abruptly, desperately, “All we have here is Cup Noodles; if that.”

“Ignis, no. Just, you need to sit down for a second.” Gladio scolded.

“Iggy, you… You just had to-” Noctis tried to get the words out but stuttered around the phrase.

“You just had to kill like, two people.” Gladio said. 

At once, Ignis shot to his feet as his stomach seize in revolt, halfway dragging Noctis with him. He retched once, hard, doubling over with the force of it, and Noctis’s arms evaporated from around him. Now free, Ignis’s swiftly made his way to the bathroom and proceeded to violently empty his stomach of what felt like everything he had eaten in his entire life. Each full body heave forced tears from his eyes, but all he saw was the assassin’s shocked face, the wet sound of the dagger hitting home, the gurgle of the blood as the weapon returned to his hand.

Ignis returned to the living room what felt like a lifetime later, shaky, pale and sweaty enough that’d mopped himself down and stripped to his shirtsleeves. Prompto had arrived sometime during his body’s rejection of the day's events and was curled on the couch, cradling Noctis’s head in his lap and carding his fingers carefully through his hair. The devastated look on his face indicated that he had been told what happened.

“Ignis! Are you ok?” Prompto said as he noticed the adviser wobble into the room, he flinched at the volume of his own voice and mouthed an apology.

“I need to make dinner.” Ignis said.

“Iggy, no, we can-”

“ _I need to make dinner_.” Ignis said.

Gladio stood with a heavy sigh and nudged a pad of paper and pen towards him with the tip of his finger. He leaned his elbows on the kitchen island and hesitated for a moment before resting his forehead against the cool marble, a picture of defeat.

“Yeah, yeah. Write down what you need and I’ll go get it from the kitchens. You.. you and Noct are on house arrest.”

Ignis didn’t need to even think as he carefully wrote down what he needed before passing off the recipe to a less-than-pleased Gladio. He’d sighed again, patted Ignis's shoulder and made his way silently out of the suite.

There was nothing else to do but sit. The suite was freshly cleaned, maintained, he suspected, in the off chance that Noctis decided that living outside the Citadel’s walls wasn’t to his taste. The fridge was empty, save for a few condiments, which gave him nothing to work with; nothing to clean or organize. Instead, he made his way back towards the couch, sitting near Noctis’s feet. As soon as he settled, Noctis sat up and flipped himself over, dragging an unresistant Ignis back to lean against the arm of the plush, grey couch with Noctis again curled against his chest.

“You’re such an asshole.” He muttered miserably.

“I do not apologize.” Ignis replied, glancing over the nest of his hair to where Prompto was perched uncomfortably on the opposite and of the couch, staring forlornly at the edge of the coffee table where a small plastic bag, filled with video games, lay abandoned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking is hard when you don't want to touch a knife.

 

“They could have killed you.”

“Yes.” Ignis said.

Noctis was a solid lump of misery curled against his chest, one hand fisted in his collar and the other pressed flat against his heart, reassuring himself that Ignis still lived. Which, considering that it was Noctis that almost took a bullet to the head, Ignis found rather ironic.  

“I will do it again, if the need arises.” Ignis said. Absently, he began to comb his fingers through the silk of Noctis’ hair and frowned he only seemed to stiffen further.

“I hope it doesn't.” Prompto whispered. Noctis stretched out his legs and threw his feet into Prompto’s lap where the blonde was seated on the other side of the couch, kicking softly as if to reassure him that Noctis knew he was still there. Ignis tried for a smile at at Prompto when the boy carefully slide his eyes towards them, and was rewarded with a small, shy smile.

“It will.” Noctis whispered, low enough that Prompto appeared not to have heard. Instead he reached back and snagged the black blanket, embroidered with a large, golden Crownsguard skull, off the back of the couch and pulled over Noctis’s exposed feet and his own legs.

It seemed to help somewhat, if the way Noctis seemed to melt was any indication. However, Ignis was robbed of any comfort as his fingers ran over a small section of burnt tips in Noctis’s hair, undoubtedly the spot where a bullet had sailed just past his head. When his hand stalled, Noctis just barely lifted his head, pinning Ignis in place with wide, blue eyes.

“If it does,” Ignis said, taking deep, calming breaths, knowing that the Prince could feel the way his heartbeat had skyrocketed.  “We shall deal with it then.”

Noctis thunked his head against Ignis chest, knocking a huff of breath from him, and fell silent.

“Sorry Prom.” Noctis mumbled, and Prompto snapped his head over, leaning forward to try to glimpse Noctis’s face from where it was turned toward the sunset burning through the floor to ceiling windows of his apartment. “I… This isn’t exactly… fun.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Prompto said, slipping on his easy, bright smile, but it only held for a moment before its edges began to wither. “But uh, are you sure it’s O.K. for me to stay, dude? I can like, go if you need me to.”

“Stay.” Ignis and Noctis said together, Noctis shifting to prop himself up with his arms bracketing Ignis’s chest. Prompto blinked and a shy grin bloomed across his face.

“Ok.” He said, “Yeah, no problem.”

“Why don’t you and Prompto play your game, your Highness.” Ignis said. His hand had caught again on the little clump of burnt stubs, and again and again, and he couldn’t bear to feel the physical evidence of Noctis’s mortality any longer.

“Gladio shall return momentarily, I need to gather what I’ll require to make dinner.” He put his hands on Noctis’s shoulders, ignoring the whine that he made as he was gently pushed off Ignis and stood. Immediately, Noctis flipped around, the movement not unlike a snake and flopped to throw himself uncaringly over a surprised Prompto.

A knock sounded at the door before it creaked open, revealing Gladio, laden with several overflowing paper bags. He kicked the door shut behind him with what was certainly more forced than necessary and dodged Ignis to all but throw the bags on the kitchen island.

“Cor!” He gulped, “Cor is on his way, he’s three steps behind me-”

The front door opened abruptly as Cor Leonis called ahead of himself.

“Stand down.” He said. Dangling from his fingertips, the top folded neatly and sealed with thick, black wax was a small paper bag. The symbol of the Crownsguard was stamped into the onyx wax, indicating that whatever was inside had been examined and approved of by the Shield of the King, or at the very least, the Marshal himself. But as he set it on the kitchen island, it clinked together with the tell-tale sound of glass bottles.

Prompto had leapt to his feet and saluted when the Marshal entered. Noctis hadn’t bothered to get up and instead was peering over the top of the couch, only the fluffy points of his hair and suspicious sapphire eyes visible.

“At ease, Argentum.” Cor sighed, and Noctis yanked Prompto, who was gaping, down to join him on the couch. The boy mimicked the Prince’s pose and slide down to only his eyes and and the tips of his golden hair were showing.

“Ignis, Noctis, you are to remain in the Citadel until further notice.” Cor intoned, “Review of the surveillance camera means we won’t be needing your statements, but you are to remain here until the investigation wraps up.”

Noctis made an indignant noise from the couch, but a stern look from Gladio silenced his opposition.

“Don’t get excited, you’ll be back to school by Friday at the latest.”

Prompto’s eyes lit up at the news, and Noctis’s head jiggled side to side as Prompto obviously elbowed his friend.

“As for you, Ignis.”  Ignis rolled his shoulders back and nodded stiffly, waiting, for _what_ he didn’t know, but it felt as if he were seven again. Like he was once again waiting to accept whatever punishment was to be doled out _this_ time for being caught sneaking from the Citadel with Noctis. But this time, Noctis was not hanging from his hand, sobbing. This time, Noctis had not convinced him to go. Whatever the punishment for executing two Lucian citizens in broad daylight was, he was willing to accept it, although he did wish that the sentence had been delivered away from the eyes of his friends.

“I’ve brought you something for your nerves.” Cor slid the bag towards him until Ignis reached out automatically to catch it.

“Sir.”

“Yes?”

“Sir, this is beer.”

“Something for your nerves.” Cor repeated, and now there was something like a smile on the edge of his lips, just one edge was turned up, but he may as well have been laughing. Gladio’s eyes had grown impossibly wide where he stood behind Ignis, glancing between his friend, the bag of beer and Cor the Immortal in blatant disbelief. Cor clapped Ignis on the shoulder, shook him once, turned and left, leaving the group in stunned silence.

“How does he know my name?” Prompto half whispered into the silence.

“Background checks.” Gladio and Ignis said at once. There was a smile there, preparing to edge itself onto his face, but as Ignis wrapped his hands around the handle of the chef’s knife in the kitchen drawer it was as if he’d been kissed by the Glacian herself. A tremor shot through him, and his teeth clacked together as his arm stiffened in front of him, refusing to lift the blade from the drawer.

It’s image, smooth and polished to perfection flashed to the curved, engraved handle of a dagger, and he could see blood dripping from the blade and pooling amongst the other cutlery. He blinked, and the image disappeared, but the ice in his lungs as remained Ignis closed the drawer, then his eyes and took a single deep breath as he took a measured step back and away from the counter.

“Iggy?” Gladio whispered.

“Apologies, I will be a moment.” Then, walking as if there were iron rods through his bones, he made his way out into the hallway.

The second the door clicked closed, Noctis paused the game and he and Prompto turned on Gladio as one.

“Told you.” Noctis said, but the venom in his voice was diluted by the worried glances he kept casting at the closed door.

Outside, Ignis tugged at the neck of his shirt in frustration, crushing the stiff fabric in his fist and contemplated just ripping it off to see if it would ease the heavy feeling winding it’s way around his chest, cutting off his airflow. He walked on unstable legs to the wide windows adorning the hallways to the west of Noctis’s rooms and pressed his forehead into the glass. He tried to close his eyes again, but all he saw was blood, Noctis’ shocked face, the jerking motions of the cashier as he crashed to the floor, out of sight. His stomach rolled at the sudden barrage of what ifs; what if he hadn’t noticed? What if he hadn’t reacted in time?

“Ignis, my boy.”

And that was King Regis. Ignis snapped to attention so hard he actually stumbled, but caught himself before the King could move forward to steady him.  He was alone, leaning his weight almost entirely on his left leg and staring at Ignis in the same way that he looked at dignitaries representing new groups of refugees. Ignis was unsure of what to make of the expression, or the fact that the King was seemingly alone.

“Your Majesty.”

“Be at ease, young man.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Noctis is inside, I’ll fetch him for you.” Ignis said, lowering his head again as he moved to scuttle from under the King’s stare and into the relative safety of Noctis’s chambers.

“No need, my boy. I’ve already seen him, now I come for you.” There was something of a smile on the King’s face, but his expression didn’t match. It was the same look, Ignis realized, that Cor had given him when he’d first arrived on the scene.

He only now recognized it as veiled pity.

“To take a life is a heavy burden, especially for the young. It changes you, irrevocably, as a person and can lay low the strongest of men if they do not tend to the wound.” Regis said. He watched as Ignis folded his hands behind his back, a trembling version of parade rest copied from the Kingsglaive to hide their shaking. But Ignis, like Noctis, could never hide anything from him.

Regis _knew_ him.

Regis had watched as that serious little boy had turned into his Uncle’s shadow, learning the court from osmosis and burying the loss of his parents behind layers of decorum and etiquette lessons. He’d watched as that selfless child had taken the fall for every one of his and Noctis’s ill-planned little exploits, stoic and apologetic despite the fact that it was very obvious that they were going to sneak out again. He watched the boy grow, learned all of his subtle tells and it was clear that the young man shivering before him now was struggling

To know that Ignis, kind, patient Ignis had been forced to end a life was a blow that Regis hadn’t quite been prepared for. Noctis had been targeted in the past and would continue to be in the future, but for some foolish reason Regis had thought he had more time. But then Clarus had silently patched the surveillance video from a no-name corner shop into the war room to watch as Ignis Scientia hurled his son into his Shield's arms and ruthlessly took down two armed assassins. He’d heard Cor’s brief descriptions of the scene, the assailants, and the horrified look that had come across the boy’s face as he’d dropped his daggers as if they’d physically burned him. Daggers, Cor had noted, that hadn’t been pulled from the Armiger for years.

“I will do everything within my power to keep the Prince safe.” Ignis said, “No matter what wounds may be inflicted” Regis stepped forward and rested his hand on Ignis shoulder. Surprise fluttered across his features, but it tucked it away almost immediately.

“The Line of Lucis is lucky to have you in its service, dear boy.”  

Ignis blinked, unsure of how to respond to such praise before bending forward in a bow.

“It is an honor to serve it.”

“I shall leave you then, as I suspect my _son_ ,” He lifted his voice and the sound of Prompto’s muffled shout of surprise filtered through the heavy door. A grin stretched across his features then, temporarily lifting years from his appearance, “Has need of you. Please remind him of our appointment tomorrow evening."

Regis nodded, seemingly satisfied and walked past Ignis with a heavy pat to his shoulder. He had not yet taken two steps with Clarus seemed to melt from the shadows at the end of the hall. His footsteps, faster and longer than his charge’s, brought him breezing past Ignis with a few, unexpectedly quiet strides. He nodded at the chamberlain as he passed, dipping his head in a show of respect that had the boy reeling.

Ignis looked back down the hallway to where Clarus had come from and narrowed his eyes as Cor Leonis strolled past the hallway. 

Ignis turned his eyes back out the window, to where the Wall glittered as the last of the day slipped below the horizon. He breathed deeply, imaging the way the wind cut against the Citadel at this height, carrying the dust from the desert outside the city walls up and into the city, over the occasionally pungent scent of gasoline and heavy spices. He filled his lungs with it and cast aside the insidious thought that there were people out there, in his city, that wished to kill his Prince for no other reason than his station.

He carried the imaginary breath of the city with him and back into the apartment, where the occupants inside had rearranged themselves at their starting positions, as if he hadn’t just heard them all scrambling away from the door to Noctis’s rooms.

“I need to make dinner.” Ignis repeated, and Gladio sighed, grabbing the bag of officially sanctioned beer to put in the fridge. He already had two set out on the counter, their caps already removed.

“I know, Iggy.”

Blessedly, Noctis and Prompto had turned their attention to whatever hack and slash game that Prompto had brought as soon as Gladio’s molten glare had told them they would not be having any of the beers.

Ignis hesitated for only a moment before grabbing one of the drinks. Gladio picked up the other and clinked one bottle’s neck to the other in a silent toast. The brought the bottles to their lips in unison, and Ignis sighed at the crisp, hoppy taste.

He turned back to the problematic drawer from earlier and slid it open, again revealing the neat assortment of knives within.

These were cooking knives, he told himself. Meant to feed, not to harm. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of a suitable candidate for the job of chopping vegetables and managed to get it out of the drawer and onto the countertop before he calmly removed his hand. He took the carrots and celery from the grocery bag and set them on the counter, portioning out what they would need and wrapping the rest back up in the paper bag.

“Hey Iggy?”

Ignis didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. Prompto had appeared beside him, keeping a respectable distance as he fiddled with the sweatband he kept on his wrist at all times.  

“Do you… um, do you want to teach me how to make.. uh… whatever it is you're making?” Prompto asked.

“Chicken noodle soup?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I don’t know how to make it. No idea, not a clue. I can help though? Chop veggies? Stir?”

“No carrots.” Noctis called and a glance showed that he was once again peering over the top of the couch.

“It won’t taste right without carrots, brat.” Gladio grumbled.

Beside him, Gladio had begun to pull the meat from the chicken all the while taking quiet, deep breaths. It took a moment for Ignis to realize what he was doing, for him to recognize the way he was encouraging him to breath in tandem with him. Ignis had seen the Shield utilize the same tactic whilst training Noctis, breathing deeply and calmly, making himself into a physical template for the Prince to copy.  Prompto meanwhile, had once again demonstrated an unexpected level of situational awareness, and was obviously trying to give Ignis and out from handling knives. He wanted to say no, to insist that he would be useless if he could not conquer such a simple thing alone.

However, it was as his uncle always said; only a fool refuses help when it is offered.

“Of course; it’s  fundamental to say the least. First, we shall begin by peeling the carrots.” Ignis stepped aside, allowing Prompto, smiling far more gently that he’d ever seen, stepped up to grab the peeler. Ignis took another drag from the his gifted beer and ensured that his breathing was as deep and even as Gladio’s. Especially as Prompto began to carefully, slowly, dice up the veggies.

Later, when soup had been mostly consumed (including Noctis’s vegetables which had been carefully removed and placed into Prompto’s bowl) and video games and been played and it had become obvious that Prompto was staying the night the topic of sleeping arrangements had been brought up.

“I’ve an idea.” Ignis said, “But first just let me…” He closed the curtains and strolled to flip off the lights plunging the room into darkness. There was a moment of silence, and the the  the room as plunged rumble of Gladio’s voice as he began to speak when Prompto suddenly made a shrill sound of pure delight.

“Holy! Woah! Look!” From the faint glow of the ceiling it was possible to see the boy pointing erratically sight above them. Sprawling across the entirety of the ceiling, and curving down the hallway towards the bedroom, was a glow-in-the dark, scientifically accurate, rendition of the night’s sky.

“It’s still there!” Noctis laughed.

“They may paint the walls, but few think to repaint the ceiling.” Ignis said.

“When? How?” Prompto asked.

“When Noctis left for Tenebrae as a child, I knew that our stargazing expeditions would be put on hold until he’d fully recovered. Therefore, I figured that if he could not go to the stars, I would bring the stars to him.” Hundreds of tiny dots of multicolored paint covered the ceiling, swirling into constellations and barely visible nebulas.

“Dude, that is like, so freaking sweet.”

Ignis smiled in the darkness.

“This is what the stars look like above Insomnia,” Ignis continued, “Unobstructed by the Wall or light pollution.”

He flipped the lights back on, causing them all to blink in the sudden brightness, and Ignis could see a tiny smirk settled on Noctis’s face. Already, Gladio was moving the coffee table out of the way and moved to pull the couch back, creating adequate space on the floor.

“I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down!” Prompto said, pulling the pillows from the couch. “Indoor camping!”

“It’ll do for now, until we can go camping for real.” Gladio said, helping Ignis as they spread out the extra blankets from the linen closet.

“Maybe one day, we’ll see what they look like for real!” Prompto said.

“The Wall would have to come down.” Ignis said. But Prompto’s expression indicated he had no idea of the implications of the Wall’s removal.

“Yeah,” Noctis said, throwing himself on the nest of blankets beneath him. He threw one over his head, letting it settle over him to form a princely lump on the carpet. “Maybe one day we will. When it’s all over.”

Gladio lit a candle he’d dug out from under the kitchen sink and flipped off the lights, again revealing the galaxy and stars swirling above them. Ignis sat down, but was immediately forced to lay down as Noctis threw himself against his advisor’s chest. The other two followed suit, sprawling out amongst the make believe tent and tucked pillows behind their heads.

“The largest star, there,” Ignis pointed to a large star on the ceiling, “That is said to be the top of the Draconian’s helm. Follow it south, and that is the tip of his wing, made of golden blades, forged in the furnaces of the stars themselves.”  

“That’s intense.” Prompto said from somewhere to Noctis’s right.

“ _He’s_ intense.” Noctis replied, “Or you know, so they say.”

“Yikes, hope we never find out.” Prompto said.

“You said it.”

And so they continued, Ignis attempting to point out the constellations over Prompto’s interjections and Gladio’s steady commentary. On his chest, Noctis had fallen asleep almost immediately as Ignis had resumed running his fingers through the Prince’s dark strands, careful to avoid the smooth ends of the singed chunk lurking somewhere in there.

And hours later, when Regis, Clarus and Cor silently opened the door to Noctis’s rooms (“Just to check, my friend. Where’s the harm.” Regis had said.) that is how they found them. Ignis in the center of the puppy pile, with Noctis sprawled over him like a human blanket. Ignis’s head was resting on Gladio’s chest, and Prompto was at the end of the group, limbs intertwined with both Ignis’s and Noctis’s where they’d slipped off the advisor in sleep. Blankets and pillows lay abandoned around them, kicked off sometime during the night. The television was looping the menu screen of some trashy action movie and Regis, affection swelling in his chest, stepped around the island to turn the television off.

Ignis twitched in his sleep, brow furrowing in the beginning what was obviously the beginning of a nightmare, his face lit only by the glow of the glowing stars above them. But it was enough for Noctis to grumble and press his face firmly into his advisor’s neck. Immediately, Ignis’s breathing evened out, and his grip around Noctis’s waist tightened for a moment before relaxing. Cor turned, and opened the door, silently ushering the two out and into the hall.

With the door shut quietly behind them, Regis elbowed Clarus’s ribs.

“And _you_ said to paint it over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback is so amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading!


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